


Yellow Flicker Beat

by eternal_optimist



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_optimist/pseuds/eternal_optimist
Summary: Plagued with nightmares and the horrors she'd faced, Caroline had hidden herself far away in hopes to never be found and dragged into the war she wanted no part in. But that all ended with a knock on her door.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [garglyswoof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/garglyswoof/gifts).



> Sooo, the basis for my idea, had been to originally employ the apocalypse trope and work with it, but as I continued further with this fic, it just slowly unravelled into something else. I am pretty sure I may have gotten a detail or two wrong but hey, best projects are the imperfect ones, right? Anyway, this is hugely inspired by S4 of TVD which is like my second favourite season in terms of idea, but severely lacking in the execution department to my great sorrow. Hope you like it, Kelly, and everyone else.

It was a perfect Monday, the day everything began - ended - blew up in epic proportions. She’d been planning it since forever, the beginning of her junior year, when she could finally, _finally,_ become seventeen in a few months so she could move on to eighteen instead.

She hated filler years.

Her three-inch ankle-strap pumps clicked on the sidewalk as she trotted on, too excited to drive safely. Her mother had taken one look at her in the morning - a rare occasion when she was _actually_ home - and refused to give her the keys to the car.

Really, it just gave her more of a headspace to review her plans for this year’s cheerleading routine, the decade dances for both junior and senior years, and her future resume for the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant - which she’ll win, so help her.

The long walk had her start wondering about her college years, for which she was vaguely excited but not as much as junior year, of course.

Let it never be said she failed at compartmentalizing.

A sting sprang up her neck, rapidly swelling into agonizing pain. She screamed, high-pitched and frightened and trying in vain to move her arm so she could reach her nape, but she failed, becoming numb, her vision hazy-edged as she felt her body crash towards the asphalt.

Later, when she laid sprawled in a dark, dirty cell - _her_ cell, her captors said - too fatigued and head too heavy to even consider lifting it, she blamed her situation on the fact that the next day was a Tuesday.

* * *

 

She woke up from her nightmare with a startled gasp, a fine layer of sweat coating her skin, her legs tangled among her sheets and hair damp and in disarray.

The mattress was uncomfortably hot against her back, and it made her feel suffocated. Still, she tried to get back to sleep, wanting the occasional sweet reprieve from her memories that never really went away no matter how hard she busied herself with things to do or research to continue.

It was after midnight here in her small flat in Reykjavik; the chill was apparent to her Virginian-born skin, even after all these years, and shivered more out of muscle memory than anything else.

Begrudgingly making peace with her escaped rest, she stepped out to the balcony, the view of Mount Esja a sight that never failed to leave her in awe.

And never failed to leave her at peace either.

She loved that mountain, possibly with more amount than should be given to a volcanic mountain range, but alas.

Climbing it for the first time had been a challenge she’d set for herself; 914 meters weren’t a hindrance to her vampire speed and strength, but she’d arrived in Iceland with too many terrors that reaching the top felt like a defiant declaration.

Caroline wrapped her fluffy winter jacket around her more tightly, loving the warmth it gave off. It had been a particularly hard day, the wind harsher than it usually was. It made her long for a cup of warm chocolate, a plate of s'mores with fire-roasted marshmallows melting between the graham crackers, thick with sweetness.

She shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts, a wisp of hair escaping from the loose bun she’d woven it into, rubbing her hands together.

The view from where she stood was lovely, and she cracked a small smile at the band of high school boys making hilariously bad jokes and high-fiving at outwitting each other with all the charm that sixteen year olds were capable of.

Which was - admittedly - not much.

Still, she appreciated their efforts and their dedication to the cause. Especially when war had been bashing its heel through everyone’s front step for a good ten years without a single care.

An hour passed before she decided to retire, hoping that the sheets had cooled enough that she could sleep again. Maybe she’d get lucky, and they’d be cold, which made for the best kind of sleep.

But, before she could even take a step in the direction of her comfortable bed, a knock sounded on the door. She ignored it, having no desire for a pesky neighbour or whoever it was.

The unwanted visitor didn’t share her sentiment; knocking and knocking and _knocking_ until she feared for the door.

When she opened it, she had ten things to say on the tip of her tongue, ranging from a refined “What. The. Fuck?” to a creative assortment of Icelandic insults she’d accumulated during her stay.

Her reaction varied off-course entirely, too thrown off by the twenty-something looking man at her door, the way he carried himself in a non-threatening manner - that she easily recognized as dangerous -  coupled with a big fat ‘don’t approach’ vibe, the bat in his hand only a strange addition.

He smelled old, the magic in his bones ancient.

She didn’t like him one bit.

“You know, darling; it’s in poor manners to keep someone waiting,” he said, tongue curling around the words with a distinctive British accent.

Caroline glared, much as her instincts screamed at her not to. She survived because of them, true, but she held no tolerance for cocky, annoying vampires, no matter how old they were.

She also happened to have survived much worse, which was sure to give a girl a sufficient ego boost.

“You’re a bit testy, aren’t you, little one?”

Barely reigning in her teeth, she moved backwards to shut the door in his face, already plotting her escape.

The vervain grenade she had installed above her flat’s entrance in case this exact situation happened would do nicely; it was made by her hands, concentrated until the tiniest whiff of it would cause agonizing pain. This vampire, whoever he was, would be too preoccupied to even think of following her.

And the transport she had secured when she first moved to Reykjavik should do the rest of the job.

Another voice entirely stopped her, because just her luck that she got to be cornered on the day she had that particular nightmare - her least favourite one of the bunch, ranked by date and events involved since she was _nothing_ if not methodical.

“Stop playing with your food, Kol,” that voice, another man, said as he stepped out of the shadow, his footsteps nonexistent as he smoothly slid in front of the other, blocking her view.

He smirked at her, something feral in his eyes as his gaze slid over her figure.

“Apologies for the fright, love, but, truth be told, we really didn’t have the time frame for organising a meeting; we had to be here posthaste.”

It was admittedly a struggle to make herself reply, the magic she felt coming from him — stronger than that of his annoying companion — clawing at something inside of her, the part that had screamed for mercy and then feasted on the witches without regards.

“I fail to see why we’d have any reason to meet at all, _truth be told_.” Her tone was mocking, dry, and nearly vicious.

But that man, simply smiled. Alarm prickled at her skin.

“Really, Lamia? I thought you’d be smarter than that?”

She didn’t exactly get a chance to reply, not to the veiled threat nor to the title he called her by. How did he know it? she wondered in that faint mockery of a second before the other man’s bat collided with her head in a painful crunch, a satisfied grin on his face.

The annoying bastard, he probably enjoyed it.

* * *

 

She woke up, and it was incredibly uncomfortable, yet much more accommodating than the first time she’d ever been kidnapped. Her neck felt sore, her head by far worst, and she felt like she could still hear the crunching of her bones in her mind .

It took her a minute to regain her bearings and glance around, marveling at the well-furnished room and its fabulous carpets, one or two that she might’ve eyed at an online store, the curtains that were draped neatly, allowing the perfect amount of sunlight without it being so much.

She was honestly a bit jealous.

Just a tiny bit.

Caroline was not the least bit surprised that her door snapped open at that moment, had made peace with the fact that all supernatural beings seemed to have a built-in warning signal for when their prisoners were awake.

Why that trait seemed to skip her was beyond her grasp.

It was kind of insulting, honestly.

What was surprising was the sight of maid in her mid-twenties, black dress and white apron ironed to perfection, the shoes shining with polish, carrying a tray that was filled with a sweet aroma that smelled suspiciously like chocolate mousse and a blood bag.

This had to be one of her more luxurious kidnappings, that’s for sure.

“Prendre plaisir, mademoiselle,” the maid said, French accent perfect. The brunette laid the tray on her nightstand before hastily leaving.

Caroline took a peek at the tray, her mouth watering at the dessert, its chocolate scent just the right amount of perfect, and checked out the blood bag, feeling reluctantly impressed that it was B positive.

Sighing with frustration, she picked out the plate and the silver fork, deciding that it would be just rude to bail on her _very_ hospitable snatchers without giving them a well-earned A plus for effort.

The mousse was delicious.

* * *

 

The lack of a lock made her concerned when she tried the door; the simple fact was you only let your hostages have free rein either when you were stupid or sure of an unrefusable bargaining chip.

And based on the cleverness that shone in the eyes of her captors, she was willing to bet all of her fortune that it was furthest thing from the former.

Much as she detested to admit it, she was freaking out.

Breathing to calm her nerves, she took a step outside the perimeters of the room.

She heard the snap of a cord, didn’t even get the chance to scream or run, a large cylindrical shaped metal trap falling around her, its hoops not completely isolating her view but by no means dissuaded from its efficiency in keeping her confined.

Fuck.

“Going somewhere, love?”

This time, it wasn’t the poor imitation of Harley Quinn that startled her — and she said poor because no-one could do a proper bat-wielding, shit-eating, maniac grin like her idol could — but the other who made her a little light-headed with his ancient magic.

Caroline didn't bother to reply, moving to push at the iron, even though a logical part of her understood the impossibility, panic setting in and driving her instinct.

Her hands were propelled backwards by an unseen force, and she swore as she landed on her backside, the hard metal digging in her skin.

Fucking magic.

“Are you interested to listen then, Lamia?”

She hissed at the title, her skin bristling with anger.

“Or,” he said, walking towards her until he stood near her cage, bending at his knees, his feet carrying his weight as he crouched to her height. “Maybe you'd prefer Succo? I didn't really manage to get your preference.”

Rolling her eyes, because really, the whole 'ancient creatures trying to scare her by digging at where she tended to be most sensitive emotionally' routine was getting seriously old. Even if it _was_ quite effective.

“Let me out,”she told him flatly.

“No can do, darling.” And there came the Harley Quinn wannabe, and yes, he had the bat.

The thing had to be really sturdy, she mused as she eyed it, to be able to withstand colliding with a vampire’s skull and survive intact.

Or maybe the man had an entire closet dedicated to a collection of similar wooden bats for fun.

Who really knew with these psychos.

“Should we let her out to chat?” The bat-wielding skull-wrecker, the younger of the two she noticed, asked, the broad smile on his face making sure that actual chatting was the furthest thing on his mind.

“Oh my god, please don't tell me you maimed the vampire already,” a female voice interrupted, footsteps hard on the stairs, the pattern and the presence of a heartbeat so distinguishably human. Caroline's head turned towards the sound, something about it vaguely familiar.

Skull-wrecker snorted indignantly, “I'll have you know, darling, she's in perfect health, thank you very much.”

Caroline shot him with a flat look. Because seriously?

“Yeah, I am sure,” came the doubtful response.

She sighed resignedly; either this day was going to get bloody, or she'd be forced to spend it in this less-than-stellar cage, neither of which she was particularly thrilled for.

The stomp of whoever coming up were loud, and nagged at her ears. It made for a mystery however; old vampires weren't overly fond of willful humans as temporary amusements, preferring to turn them if they held their interest for longer. So why was such an outspoken human roaming the halls?

“Caroline?”

Her head snapped up at her name, fear coating her insides at the thought of having her history dug up - more than it obviously had that is - before she froze.

She may have forgotten the sound of her voice but that face haunted her nightmares often.

“Bonnie,” she breathed, her best friend’s face shell-shocked.

She couldn't say she didn't feel the same.

* * *

 

Seeing Bonnie again was something Caroline had given up hope on after she escaped, didn’t think of beyond her fantasies and memories that she recalled from her teenage years: cheerleading practice, sleepovers and pillow fights.

She had been on the run, and to so much as step into Virginia, much less Mystic Falls, would be signing everyone’s death warrant.

Yet, her childhood best friend was standing in front of her in the flesh, her face young but not seventeen — more in the early twenties she guessed — her hair in shoulder-length curls.

And the magic... Bonnie was a witch, of that there was no doubt, and Caroline didn't know how to react.

Her monster wanted to rip Bonnie apart, the mere thought of chains sending her into overdrive. She did not believe that it was really her friend, and who was to say it wasn’t a mirage to lull her into a false sense of security so that they could take from her what they wanted?

Bonnie came closer but still remained far enough from her cage, throat muscles swallowing nervously.

“You know each other?” Skull-wrecker asked gleefully, startling Caroline.

For a second, she had almost forgotten about the other two people present, and she cursed at her mistake.

“Obviously,” she remarked, moving to sit cross-legged. Might as well get comfortable.

“Cheeky,” the other man reprimanded her lightly, smirking. It took all of her willpower not to stick her tongue out at him, or do something that would get her killed, temporary as it may be.

“Who are you people?” She turned her head from one side to the other.

“Oh, right, we skipped the introductions. I’m Kol, and this is Nik, my brother, though I suppose to you he’s Klaus.”

A chill racked through her body; those names, she knew those names, heard them whispered after her sessions were finished between Latin mutterings and casted spells, often along with three others. Finn, Elijah and Rebekah.

The witches had called them the Originals, had laughed at her the one time she’d gathered enough strength to ask about them before shoving a wooden stake through her thigh and slashing it through her skin and bone.

She had learned not to ask, taught herself how to listen instead.

And she was an excellent listener.

“Care to let me out?” Caroline spoke tightly. The one who she presumed to be Klaus laughed amusedly.

“Where are my manners, of course.”

He bent to curl his finger through the lower hoops, and lifted the metal effortlessly, sending the cage flying deeper into the hallways, no doubt to be cleared by the help.

And, just like that, she was free.

She allowed herself exactly one second to breathe in that feeling, to settle down her monster from lunging, and then snapped herself back into alertness.

“Come on,” Bonnie said, extending a hand and pulling her up, not noticing the way her body tensed at the unexpected touch.

How it made her mind flash briefly to hot scorching iron dipped on flesh.

* * *

 

“So you want my help?” she asked, more for show than anything else, not at all surprised by the conversation she’d just taken a part in. She’d prepared for this possibility ever since she became aware of what she was.

Klaus chuckled; the sound had a hint of darkness that was filled with too many warnings for anyone with a wish to survive to ignore.

“Help is a bit presumptuous, love. You have information that I find myself in need of; unfortunately, your rather meddlesome history ensures that methods of torture would take far more time than I could spare to prove to be effective. Thus, negotiations it is then.”

She eyed him in disbelief; he was going to blame _her_ for being kidnapped.

Seriously?

“I still can’t believe you’re one of those vampires,” Bonnie muttered under her breath.

Caroline smiled sadly at her friend, ignored the sting of how the word ‘those’ was uttered. “Well, it’s not like I disappeared on the first day of junior year for cheeseburgers. It’s not really that big of a stretch if you think about it.”

Bonnie winced.

Klaus stood up from where he was perched on an armchair. “Well, now that we’ve exhausted all the meaningless chit chat, you all should pack; we have places to be, a tombstone to track, and a two-millennia old immortal to kill.”

With a significant glance at her, he sped out of the room.

Kol stood as well, hands tugging at Bonnie’s until she followed his motion.

“Pack light, darling. We are going to Alexandria.”

* * *

 

She watched them go as she ran a hand over her hair.

Pack light, Kol had said. Except she didn't have anything to take to begin with, and she most certainly did not want to go anywhere.

What they wanted of her, the things they wanted to know, she had spent too long hiding to so freely give away. She had decided long ago that she wasn't stepping into the war the world has found itself in with Silas, had made peace with the fact that, should she ever be found, she'd take her secrets with her to the grave.

Even if graves were no longer a commodity. Silas and his plight to destroy the Other Side had robbed her of that too.

Caroline sighed and pulled at her hair, letting the pain ground her to reality as she attempted to make a plan.

The reality was she _was_ going to be dragged into this war, was likely to find herself knee-deep with the Originals, whether she wanted to or not.

It was the simple side effect of the witches’ work, of being the foundation for Silas’ reign.

Oh, how she despised them.

* * *

 

The first morning she'd woken in her cell, she’d been hungry and filthy, dust matting her cheeks and hair, her pumps snapped at the heel. Drowsy and nauseous, terror had been a permanent taste on her tongue.

A strange women had entered, her hair auburn red with some strands woven in braids and laced with beads. She resembled some of the photos Caroline had seen of Coachella, and it was that thought that made laughter threaten to bubble out of her throat.

But the woman did not pay her any attention, instead touching her cheeks with a softness that made her flinch.

“Oh yes, you’ll be perfect for my lord.”

Caroline had pushed her body away from the uncomfortable touch hastily. That had been her first mistake.

And she'd paid for with it with blood and screams.

* * *

 

Alexandria was _beautiful_.

There was simply no other way to describe it. Even the view from the private jet was breathtaking. The way the modern architecture blended in with the local history, the hints of European culture that she was familiar with and yet something that was entirely different too.

The smell of the sea was familiar and yet not, heat and sunshine replacing the cold of the North Atlantic.

Something giddy uncurled inside her at the sight of glittering blue water just in front of her as their car made its way through the Corniche, historical sights passing her by.

She would never forget this, she knew as the Bibliotheca Alexandrina came in sight, and a part of her was glad for that. The beauty she saw in front of her was meant to be remembered and treasured.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned her head into their direction and met the cornflower blue of Klaus's at the rear-view mirror in the brief minute where traffic was packed. He was entirely comfortable in the way he gripped the steering wheel, how he moved between the cars.

They held each other’s stare in those minuscule seconds, a brief battle of wills or a secret message being passed between them, she wasn't sure.

When the traffic lights signaled green, they quietly returned back to what they were doing before, him driving them to where they'd be staying, a grand hotel encompassing a part of the sea view.

* * *

 

Caroline was in heaven; the mattress was soft, and the sunlight peeked into the hotel room just the perfect amount. With the low sound of waves crashing in her ears, she was lulled to a comfortable light sleep.

Until, of course, a pillow sailed right in her face, surprising her with the unexpected weight. A shriek was barely contained in her throat, and she gripped the pillow away to snarl at whoever dared disrupt her.

“Rise and shine, darling.”

Kol’s smirking face reawakened her murderous urges with a vengeance. She briefly pondered the possibility of snapping his neck before deciding that really, all that would accomplish would be her subsequent murder.

“Kol, leave her alone,” Bonnie said from the door, frowning disapprovingly.

If anything, that statement rackled her further. Really, ‘leave her alone’, had Bonnie forgotten her bitch-handling capabilities that quickly?

“But Bon-Bon, it’s so fun.”

“Enough with your childishness, Kol,” Klaus spoke lowly, but there was an authoritativeness to his voice that made the other vampire concede.

He turned to her, his gaze hard and demanding.

“Come on, love,” he said, gesturing towards her. She raised an eyebrow questioningly in return, not budging.

“Unless you’d prefer the company of my wayward brother...” he trailed off and walked towards the door of the suite.

Caroline huffed in irritation but reluctantly followed.

The silver lining, she supposed, was that whatever the vampire had in mind couldn’t possibly be worse than the years of torture and experimentation she’d endured.

Possibly.

* * *

 

She turned out to be right in her assessment in quite an unexpected way.

Instead of a bloody interrogation - which she’d three hundred percent expected regardless of pretty words about negotiations - or tracking down a useful lead to the tombstone or even a mutual feeding session - the most pleasant of all three option if she may say so herself - Klaus took her on a stroll across the coast.

She was utterly pleased by that, soaking it all in, the lines of people laughing as they sat on the stone wall separating the sea and the hints of beach sand from the cemented streets: families laughing with their children, friends taking selfies and couples taking with their heads bent low, some with the shy smiles of new lovers and others with their age in their eyes a testament to how they stood together through it all.

Thoughts of mystical war, blood and torture didn’t spontaneously disappear when faced with these images like she used to read in her old fiction books whose names she’d forgotten; when a heroine's worries faded in light of the happiness they faced.

She didn't think that was possible for her.

Caroline saw the signs that these humans chose not to pay attention to in these few hours for a respite: the wary glances shot every once in awhile by someone too tense to relax, the officers standing on high roofs and the ones disguised as civilians in the balconies. The others with their black uniform for all to see harbouring a regular gun for law enforcement and a stash of wooden and silver bullets for the more supernatural ones, vervain supplements for any who'd need it.

If she were any nicer, any _human_ , she’d point out that huge amounts of money would be spared if the governments simply chose to discard the lead bullets and stick to the wood and silver. Human skin was human skin no matter what you shot it with.

As it was, she only watched the sharp eyes scanning the crowds for an aggressive werewolf, a vampire’s fangs in a warm neck, a witch’s spell enchanting the crowds.

But the clouds… God, they set her teeth on edge.

Nearing midday, their soft white colour turned to blood red and angry violet, she hadn’t seen them in Iceland, had lived with the terror they brought her while hiding in Greece, hungry for information about the years she’d endured.

And seeing them now was bringing up more memories to the forefront than she was comfortable with.

Still, she didn’t tense, kept her muscles lax as if she really were a tourist enjoying her time.

Pearls of laughter echoed in the air, a group of young adults shouting loudly and drawing the attention of those around them. Caroline stopped walking, laughing in surprise when one of the men pulled an Egyptian tabla from behind him, her actions paralleled by his friend, the ends of her hijab fluttering wildly in the wind. She felt Klaus do the same as her, only with more standing and far less chucking, face stoic and expression neutral.

The young man began playing the instrument with great skill and the smooth snapping of his fingers on the rounded surface reduced the crowds to rhythmic clapping.

Watching this scene, filled with a sudden determination, Caroline made a resolution.

One day she'll be like these people.

One day, she will learn how to laugh so easily with war on her doorsteps.

One day.

* * *

 

It had been days and days since she saw home. Two horrible, frightening months in which the smell of blood - hers or other’s - had become as familiar to her as air.

She had been tied with chains that lifted her body vertically, toes barely brushing the floor. The ground was dirty with gore and blood and she shuddered a breath in, throat parched for water she knew wouldn't come - not right now.

The auburn-haired witch - Eudora, she'd called herself - approached her with a damp clothes in hand, dabbing it at her sweat-slick skin, humming under her breath.

Caroline _hated_ her. Hated the lessons she was given on the best methods of coercion, the weakest organs for torture, how to rip out a heart.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, aware that a lash or a curse was heading her way - because _guess what_ magic does exist and it feel terrible.

But Eudora only smiled, petting her hair soothingly, lent closer as if to whisper a dark secret.

“I am making you into something new.”

These words made something that felt like ash settle on her tongue.“What?”

“A vampire. Only that’s not what we shall call you, not after those cheap imitations of my master. Succo, or Lamia maybe, yes much more fitting. Something ancient and strong, only the best for my lord.”

The once tender touches of the cotton turned scalding with harsh movements but the discomfort of it was a dull thing to her nerves.

“You'll be the monster monsters fear, Caroline, I promise.”

Caroline whimpered when the cloth aggravated an open gash and wondered, could she be this witch’s?

* * *

 

The sight of the seaside restaurant as the target location for the unexpected endeavour, was quite a shock.

That Klaus led her inside with a hand at her back and a charming smile that made her body prickle with awareness. The table he chose for the both of them was close to a window giving her an opportunity to enjoy the view as much as she wished.

Her stomach tightened at the thought of Klaus knowing such a simple joy of hers, she knew he’d observed her, for bait, for leverage, for torture but had wanted to believe that perhaps she hid her personal intimacies well. Proof of the contrary let a sour taste in her mouth and a desire to escape.

She’d never make it, of course. He was old and she was but a child to him.

Her hands twitched for the culinary she knew was out of reach, for the smallest hint of defense.

A waiter came to greet them, his English laced with hints of accent she heard from the local, switching to his native tongue with a brief bout of surprise when Klaus spoke in flawless Arabic.

Both jealousy and alarm fitted through her and she breathed deeply at another reminder of her vulnerability.

In a foreign country and not a single clue about the language beyond a crooked ‘alsalam ealaykum’.

Just great.   

As she read the menu in her hands, she felt her eyebrows rise higher and higher. “You're taking me out for _fish?_ ” She questioned incredulously, the shock catching up with her.

“Surprised, sweetheart?” His smirk was a touch too smug.

“By your negotiation methods, that's for sure.” Yet, she couldn't exactly deny how the thought was entirely too appealing for her, how her mouth watered at the faint aroma of the restaurant.

“Well the Egyptians do believe in the power of meals in cementing associations.” He told before ordering their dishes to the waiter who wrote it down speedily and took their menu with a quick promise of having it completed in thirty minutes.

“Getting into the spirits then, I see.” She said dryly.

She got nothing in reply but a delighted chuckle.

“So we'll go to the Citadel tomorrow?”

Klaus eyes darkened with warning.

Her lips pulled into a charming smile, “I just wanna make sure to charge my camera if we do, think of all the pictures!” she said in such a tourist voice, she almost convinced herself.

A girl and a boy from a table over, no more than eight, looked at her with wonder. She heard them whispering to each other furiously, pointing at her and exclaiming.

"They're both excited over the fact that you're not a local and that you're rather beautiful,” Klaus translated the words for her.

She smiled softly, caught the girl's eye and winked conspiratorially. The girl blushed bright red as did the boy. They smiled at her.

Caroline fidgeted with the threads of the tablecloth as she took another peek at the restaurant, it was inviting and well-furnished, spacey as well. The mahogany furniture were tasteful, the walls coated with a calming peach colour, with seashell decorations lining the walls that managed the feat of not being tacky.

Noticeable details but they didn't hold her interests for long and she found herself gazing out of the near window taking in the sea and the peak of land she saw.

Her eye caught the Bibliotheca and she bit her lip.

“Have you ever been to the new library?” she asked.

She returned her attentions towards Klaus, who was for the most part silent and assessing as she explored her surroundings.

He bent his head to the side. She knew he was aware of what she was doing.

“No. I never got the chance to.”

“It's very beautiful.”

“Yet, the wealth of its knowledge would never even think to compare to that of its predecessor.”

She looped a stray string of the tablecloth around her fingers. “I thought the old library was burnt down?”

“Part of it was, in 48 BC yet there were tales of the rest of the building surviving for another two centuries before it was damaged during a rebellion that happened between 270 and 275 AD.”

She drank what Klaus was telling her rapturously; with the last days being spent between airplanes and hotels and planning she'd not had the chance to browse Wikipedia for any info and her ignorance was nagging at her.

Caroline did not have a chance to ask any of her bubbling question as the food arrived and she got busy with the heady smell the dishes were emanating, her stomach grumbling.

Klaus shot her an amused look at her eagerness but she ignored him completely as she dug into the meal.

Goodness, the fish was _amazing_.

* * *

 

The sun was hot and bright on her skin, a brief breeze blowing. She watched the groups of tourists as they walked the Citadel grounds from behind her sunglasses. Security was placed strategically in every corner and some part of her fretted over something going awry.

Her backpack was slung across her shoulders and she drummed her fingers against her arm erratically.

She sighed.

Bonnie came from behind her, “Brighten up, you look like you'll start setting fire to the place any second.”

She _had_ been contemplating that.

“Please do, little Caroline. This is a very dreary place.”

Bonnie fixed Kol with a flat glare. “So sorry they couldn’t fit in a DJ while they were building a medieval defensive fortress. I will tell them to put that in mind when they’re building the next one.”

“Good, you should,” Kol said with ease.

Caroline eyed the pair attentively.

She sensed Klaus coming towards them and straightened, hopefully they’ll get on with it soon because she was getting immensely tired of doing nothing but just waiting around.

“Is there any reason we’re still waiting? Oh, please tell me your witch is late, I’ll eat her.”

Bonnie made a distressed noise at the back of her throat and Kol turned his head towards her, “no offence, darling.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“We’re waiting for the rest of the entourage.” Klaus did not seem pleased by the predicament and she frowned, concerned about what that could possibly mean, heart slowly but surely sinking in her throat.

“Oh joy, Bekah and Elijah are here,” Kol spoke, sounding the furthest from excited, eyes focused on a group that consisted of two people together, the blonde with wavy hair and bright plum lipstick and the distinctive dolce and Gabbana pumps, along with the brown-haired man in the Burberry suit were sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of the moderately dressed people.

Klaus growled, “Behave brother.”

The blonde strode over to them with an audible click to her shoes and an irritated expression to boot. “This place is utterly insufferable.”

“Hello to you too, Bekah.”

Burberry suit joined in, “A little more respect if you will Rebekah, the citadel is half as old as you are.”

The way he spoke so freely of their age made her wonder if she knew how many would positively slaughter to have the ability to drop hints of who they are without fearing being killed.

Klaus stepped between his siblings with impatience, “Enough.”

Rebekah huffed as she looked away, Kol stifled a laugh at the face she made and Elijah adjusted his cufflinks.

They followed Klaus at his whispered command and made their way to what used to be the dungeons, where the crowds were non-existent save for the lone thirty-looking woman with a floral print veil tied around her head and the smell of magic that she knew by heart.

Instinctively she searched for exists.

The witch only had eyes for Klaus as she murmured Sayiddi, and Caroline watched in fascination at the display of the supernatural world’s hierarchy.

The blonde original who she heard about so much in scorned whispers as much as she did her brothers smiled at Bonnie in a vicious manner as she faux innocently whispered, “I didn’t see you there Bonnie, when did you get here?”

Bonnie’s look was unimpressed.

Rebekah suddenly gasped loudly and everyone turned to her with alarm. “Oh dear, I’ve forgotten my package in the car.” And hastily turned around before anyone could reprimand her. “I’ll be back quickly.”

Caroline dared a look at Klaus, saw a smug smirk instead of anger or annoyance and felt her dread bloom further.

Rebekah appeared so fast even her heightened sight couldn’t catch her, flashing with vampire speed and dropping a body at her feet with a thud.

“Delivery,” she said sardonically, kicking the figure until it rolled on its back, so that Caroline could see who they were.

Her blood drained from her face as she did.

Oh god.

 _Enzo_.

* * *

They’d walked for hours.

The tunnels under the dungeons were dark and narrow, wide enough for two to walk side by side. She'd felt suffocated, despite her lack of need for air, and all she'd wanted was to smash through the stone and be free.

Sensing the way her muscles tensed, Enzo squeezed her shoulders in comfort.

Her jaws locked at the reminder that he was here. If there was one person from those who suffered at the hands of the witches that she didn't want dragged into this mess it was him. Six decades of torture at the hands of human scientists then one more were far enough in her opinion. To top it with being used as a bargaining chip by a bunch of ancient megalomaniac vampires was the start to a very tasteless joke.

Kol whistled as he stepped over the entrance and when she stepped inside the famed believed to be non-existent library she understood the fascinated action.

The ground was polished with cobbled marble and granite, there were four pillars with hieroglyphics carved into its stone and she spotted the odd statue of an Egyptian phoenix made from what she suspected to be gold and rubies. The place looked like the Egyptian temples she used to see in movies only it seemed like it was still how it were a thousand of years before.

It looked every bit like a buried treasure trove should but a bit more than that too. Bonnie had spoken of how witches of the old world had used the library as a safe for all their knowledge and research, a supernatural version of the human one. They’d hidden it with enchantments and spells, made it their temple. Kol had explained that they would collect the most valuable of grimoires and scrolls and put it to be kept in the library while copies were made and given to the original owners.

Witch folk had looked at the library with reverence from the beginning of its creation and it seemed Qetsiyah was no exception to the rule. She had a feeling that the Grecian had laughed with glee as she put her tombstone in the library, a vindictive pleasure coursing through her at the fact that what doomed her would-have-been lover was to be her legacy.

She sighed; people and their petty desires.

“I have stabilized any hints of old spells or curses, you should be able to roam freely as you wish,” the witch said, her eyes misty before they cleared.

The witch left at the sharp nod from Klaus. Caroline  watched him, weariness in her bones at how easily he commanded that women but she forced herself to swallow, blinked to banish these thoughts.

“We'll have to form groups so that we can cover the four corners,” Kol said.

Caroline saw no fault with that, grabbing Enzo’s hand so that the could start with the right corner. Rebekah flashed in front of them, clicking her tongue as she shook her index at them both.

“Ah, ah, ah. You two are going to switch partners.”

Enzo smiled flirtingly, “Is this your ploy to get me alone?”

Rebekah raised a haughty brow, scoffing.

She felt a weight on the low of her back, resisted her desire to rip the hand that rested there. Klaus leaned closer to her ear, whispering in a mockingly calm tone.

“Come on, love. You can chat later.”

Caroline wanted to snarl at him.

She shrugged his hand and strode forward, seething all the while at the amusement she knew he wore so casually. He followed in a more leisurely pace, his features probably pulled into that infuriating smirk of his.

Fingers suddenly pulling at her arm, she was forced to halt and turn around, coming face to face with his curious, hungry expression.

“Why so angry sweetheart?” he rubbed his thumb along her arm. A faint warmth spread across her skin.

“I don't like it when my friends are used against me,” her voice was but a whisper but she could feel the weight these words carried echoing through her. Enzo would have been safe had it not been for his connections to her.

As safe as someone in his position could be that is.

Klaus chuckled. “Well, you did not seem so close as you implied, if I may say so. Where did Rebekah find him? Uh, yes, Brazil.”

She didn't bother to dignify that with an answer, didn't even want to. Who was this creature to presume about who she was and what made her life and the people in it.

He tilted his head, a silent challenge. But if Klaus was waiting for an opponent for the games he played as a temporary amusement, then she would be more than willing to disappoint him.

“Don't we have a tombstone to find?” she smiled tightly, nails digging into her palm.

* * *

 

It took them hours to finish scouring the library, leaving no stone unturned as they looked through scrolls and papyrus for any clue where the tombstone was. Kol had tried to translate some of the hieroglyphics, joking about his “Egyptian phase” and nudging Bonnie’s shoulders with his. He had frowned when all he had gotten was a stiff nod.

She had tried not to feel pleased that maybe someone did have her back after all.

Rebekah sighed as she flicked her perfect wavy hair behind her shoulder, “This is useless.”

She was inclined to agree.

“Not at all,” Klaus said as he walked to the center of the grand hall. He was pondering the floor inscriptions with thoughtful speculation.

“Perhaps we are just searching on the wrong floor.”

Everyone’s eyes shone with a newfound gleam and they went rounds again, Klaus staying within distance as they touched anything that looked like it could be a lever for a secret door.

She spread her senses wide, kept her eye on Enzo and Bonnie out of the corner of her eye, inspecting the statues as she went. A sudden noise of stone and gravel as they rubbed against each other filled the area.

“I found it,” Elijah called out.

They flashed back to their starting point, saw the dip where the stairs opened for a buried room. Her entire being stood on edge with the knowledge of what awaited her.

“Time for you to work your skills, sweetheart.”

It was a struggle not to react to the goading tone in Klaus’s voice, to only roll her eyes when she so desperately wished to tell him _exactly_ where he could shove it.

Caroline walked down the steps with a calmness that she lacked, with a surety she wished she possessed. Saw the tombstone displayed in the centre bathed by light and shadow like a scene out of a fantasy movie.

She stepped closer to the stone, soaked up the carvings written on it, let the thing inside of her be.

Subtle and fleeting as it was to others, the magic was tangible to her. Beneath the spells etched to her bones to make her into a vampire was what made her different, what made her the creature the witches had lusted to create.

Caroline looked at these marks and saw stories of another lifetime, saw humans playing at being gods and a tragic love story that started it all. She heard heartfelt promises, and threats and angry curses in her ears. Felt the repercussions of what an action of two thousand years did to the world.

And most importantly she understood the key to unraveling it all.

If anyone had tried to discern what was written on the stone, they’d have seen meaningless words but her, she knew what to do.

“We’re going to Rome.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2, here we go.

Her skin had bristled as she sensed Eudora heading her way. It had been years, years she was sure, of constant torment and blood and so much magic that a mere ripple of it near her made her want to vomit.

To imagine that all this had only happened during less would kill her for sure.

Her eyelids dropped in exhaustion. She wished she'd sleep and never again awake, but she knew it was futile and foolish to do so when Eudora and her witches and the humans with the hungry eyes and research equipment were only a step away.

“My pretty Caroline, how are you today?” Eudora’s voice had been soft yet cackling with energy, hands dabbing at her skin with a towel, cleaning away the grime.

She whimpered at the rough scratch of her teeth against her tongue only gasping out an answer when the movement of the scratchy towel hardened.

“Thirsty.”

The witch had clicked her tongue, “You poor thing,” she murmured, fingers sliding through her hair.

“Do not worry my dear, we're so close. Soon you'll be the terror that I'm making you to be. My witches tell me that the new assortment of spells will be ready in time.” 

Caroline's breath stuttered “But I thought you wanted to make me a vampire.” And they had been successful, she could hear the drum of the blood beneath the witch's skin, wanted to sink her fangs in it and tear it to pieces, had burned in the sun and ran fast and lifted walls. A perfect creation.

“And I did, I _made_ you, my sweet. You weren't turned, my magic flows in your veins and gives you life and power. And I can unmake you and bend you to however shape I see fit.”

She shuddered, her cellmates screams ringing in her ears.

“Sshh,” Eudora crooned.

Caroline thought the talking session was over but it seemed her torturer was bursting at the seams with her mad plans, wanting to share any of it.

She knew it was because the witch never thought that the first one Caroline would bask in feasting on would be her.

“Heard of smoke and mirrors, Caroline? Because that's what I'll do. You're called Succo and Lamia and so when anyone reads the old tongue of my master they'll see vampire and think you're just another child, they won't be able to look beneath the surface, never understand exactly how vital you are. They'll believe you're not a danger but you will be. _You will be_.”

* * *

 

Rome was strange to say the least. There was the air of danger and fright that she felt in every place she went to since that fateful day five years ago, and yet a serenity that she only felt while in Egypt. The thought made her brows furrow, a chill running through her at the implications.

Was it her connection to Silas that made her restlessness subdue, or something else?

Having Enzo with her, made up for any displeasure that being with the Originals caused. She'd missed his jokes and flirting and unusual sense of humor that sometimes matched her own.

And it made her laugh, watching him smiling at Rebekah with invitation while the Original shot him the evil eye, for one reason or another refraining from digging her fists into his abdomen like Caroline was sure she wanted.

Well, she had a hunch for what that reason could but she was firmly ignoring that. Just as she was pointedly ignoring the peeks Klaus sneaked every once in a while.

They were ones in a line of others that were strategically given at the exact moments she'd look at him.

Which were _not_ a lot.

Elijah walked leisurely into the living room where they were all sitting, most doing nothing of peculiar use to their current goal save for Bonnie and Kol who were reviewing grimoires side by side. “I've been contacted by the witches of my inner circle. We have some of Silas’s fanatics following our trail.”

She almost snorted at the choice of words, she sincerely doubted any of them had really met a fanatic.

“There was no need to speak to any of your minions Elijah, I simply could have told you that myself.”

“Yes, Niklaus, I suppose you would have been able to give me their names and mark them too?”

Klaus pursued his lips in a mocking posture, waving his hands in surrender. The exchange was so simple, so familial, it struck a chord with her.

“We could always welcome them. I do remember having aided in building one of the neighborhoods here. Perhaps they'd like a private tour. What do you say, love?” He turned his head towards her.

Caroline narrowed her eyes in warning before she picked up one of the manuscripts lying on the table. Her Ancient Greek was sketchy at best but it gave her something to do other than useless brooding.

Kol flipped a page on what they were reading, “Unless you've suddenly developed a knack for a dead language, put that down.”

She opened the book at random as a response, mentally taken back by the slew of confusing alphabet that suddenly sprung at her.

Damn her and her stubborn streak.

The space beside her on the couch sprang down with his weight as Klaus sat down. Teeth grinding together, she focused harder on the writing, so close to growling in annoyance.

But she would not give him the satisfaction. No. She held in the world-lash she'd been preparing for days, noting the big grimoire he picked up out of her peripheral vision as she skipped over the chunks of text and checking the symbols instead.

Klaus made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “Isn't it so amusing that witches have this strange philosophy of cursing their supposed loved ones with a moonstone? Shame Qetsiyah and Mother never met.”

A tendril of curiosity wrapped around her at the words, for all the two weeks she'd been in the company of both Kol and Klaus she'd yet to discover why Klaus’s supernatural presence was so much brighter than the other three combined.

The Originals exchanged wry glances as they watched their brother flit through what she now could see was a witch folk history book. The binding looked old and worn but it lacked any sort of mystical aura, for all she knew

“Well it is probably not that amusing given that the former buried hers in a public temple in the middle of friggin Rome,” Rebekah said irritably.

“I'd like to remind you all that _none_ of this would have happened if you two-” Kol pointed at Rebekah and Klaus. “-had listened to me like you should have and Nik hadn't stored me in a box when he got too irked.”

Klaus smiled tightly. “Yes, Kol. I made the mistake of my life. No need to hear it again.”

The gasp Kol gave was nothing short of dramatic. “You're admitting your own mistake? What happened Nik, war too tiresome for you?”

“No, your whining is,” he deadpanned.

She stifled a laugh, locked gazes with Klaus, who was a mixture of languid and tense, before she inevitably looked away.

* * *

 

The stone, contrary to what she thought, had been almost insultingly easy to find. It'd been stored in one of the antiques in the Augustus Temple, hidden in plain sight. Protected by humanity.

Qetsiyah had devoted her time to make sure that tracking down the ingredients to destroy her wayward lover was painfully exhaustive. Her dramatic streak was definitely showing in the locations she'd chosen. The library for exhibiting her retribution as triumph. A hidden page of her incantation sealed in North America where she'd sealed Silas’s tomb, far away from civilisation at the time... And now this.

The catalyst in the temple of one considered a prosecutor of two lover who'd stood in his way. Of two people who'd betrayed him. Caroline knew that Qetsiyah thought of herself an Augustus who triumphed over such hardships, Silas a Mark Antony who became a traitor for the sake of love and Amara as the illustrious lover who stole him.

It was all so very maddening, how such a story that was meant to only be repeated as a cautionary tale became the doom of the planet two thousand years later. She couldn't part with that bitterness when her scars were hidden beneath her skin and everywhere she went people were hiding away in fear.

This war had spared no one, not the supernatural nor the humans. The only ones who seemed to be winning were those who'd allied themselves with Silas, willingly submitting to his whims, and even the lives of those wouldn't be lasting for long.

But they served a purpose and the power they were offered was too sweet to refused, coated in lies and half-truths and the illusion of safety and superiority.

The hair on her arms rose as she felt the tell tale signs of being watched, realised how soon it would be that a confrontation was going to occur. The question was if it would be Silas himself, drawn to the threat that vampires almost as powerful as him were, or would it be his witches?

Klaus's fingers drummed against her hand in a series of quick taps.

_On your right._

The look she gave him out of the corner of her eye was of pure vexation. Her senses were perfectly attuned to her surroundings, thank you very much.

She spotted the brief smirk that crossed his face, laughing at her with its very existence as she frowned. What was he, five?

The presence she felt around them seemed to increase in size, shadows moving over roofs and building, hiding more easily in the darkness the midnoon clouds provided. They seemed thicker in Rome, richer in colour. Europe as a whole was where she saw them at their worst save for its islands.

Kol pulled Bonnie closer to his side, squeezing her shoulder once when she shot him a questioning look. They'd left Elijah and Rebekah back at their flat, Enzo of course, an insurance against her, while they tracked down one of the old local witches in the area. Rebekah had sighed wistfully as she mentioned _her darling Sofia,_ had warned Klaus not to kill her and that Kol kept his paws off her or else

The scorned mutterings of Eudora about the originals and their witches was slowly making more and more sense.

At ease, they walked towards one of the less-frequented streets, dragging their watchers with them to where they wanted to be. She catalogued the number of the buildings, the width of the roads, ever so grateful that she’d worn one of her more comfortable pair of sneakers, the one that masked the ever slight shift of her steps.

Kol headed to a roman looking structure that was seven stories high, a chilly breeze running through the air. Faint footsteps sounded around them as Silas’s minions closed in.

Her blood heated and rushed in her veins, her muscles tensed. She waited for the perfect moment, the brief second when she wouldn't be caught.

These footsteps echoed closer. She watched Bonnie as her eyes shone with power, Kol and Klaus wearing identical expressions of readiness.

She took the leap.

They didn't realise she was gone fast enough, didn't even think to grab her. Not the originals, or Bonnie or the various creatures that were slowly crowding the building. She jumped with speed that would not have ever been possible had she been a normal vampire.

But she did, hid herself in a deep crack in the wall where no one would sense her. Folded her limbs and waited.

She heard Kol curse lowly, “I'll kill her for this.”

Caroline wanted to snort, but she resisted.

Klaus swept his eyes in a show of marking those who were standing boldly before him, ready to pounce. She knew he was looking for her though. He crossed his hands behind his back, his features for all intents and purposes pleasant.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

A number hissed at the jovial tone, red and golden eyes staring at the three in the center.

“Hybrid.”

Hot ice poured itself on her skin. That voice.

Silas.

“The madman behind the last ten years, I presume.”

She rolled her eyes; ancient being sassing each other was quickly becoming very normal for her.

Typical.

Silas chuckled low in his throat, the sound a loud warning to her. “Oh, I've been orchestrating this for far longer than that.”

“So I have been told.”

Those standing on the edges of the staircases breathed harshly, like they were holding themselves back from snapping and tearing flesh.

“Where is my blonde pet?”

She saw Bonnie tense, her jaw clench. Kol leaned back on the heels of his feet.”We seem to have lost her, you wouldn't happen to know where she could be, would you, mate?”

One of the witches on Silas’s sides narrowed her eyes, her onyx hair gleaming. Silas only smoothed her hair back to settle her down.

Disgust coiled itself deep in her abdomen.

“Unfortunately no,” Silas said, his fingers playing with the strands of hair between them, the witch preening under his ministrations. “My pet is a little harder to track than was originally intended.”

“Nothing like an out of control minion. They absolutely drive you mad.”

Silas smiled with teeth. “So the accounts were true then; I've been told your sense of humor is quite unmatched.”

Kol held his hand against his chest. “I'm touched you search for my news.”

Klaus was strangely silent, perhaps still trying to sense her. She wanted to tell him tough luck because she wasn't making herself susceptible to anyone tracking her with their senses as long as Silas was present. Not when their thoughts was ever so ripe for his picking.

The immortal flexed his shoulder blades, the tension and anger of those around him rising in tandoms. A brave wolf moved closer towards Bonnie and the Originals but Klaus grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, cutting off air.

“Perhaps some light on why you've seeked us out?”

“I've been told you aim to destroy me. Not the only ones, I admit, but you have come awfully close to my liking.”

Klaus smirked, “Thank your pet for that, she was an ever lovely help.”

Add baiting to the list of annoying character traits. But he was doing her a favour; as long as Silas’s followers were occupied with the threat that Kol and Klaus represented, they wouldn't be able to use their senses to track her keeping Klaus and Kol busy with being on guard in case they attacked.

“Hm, Caroline was quite the surprise waking from eternal sleep. Sweet, vicious, smart creature with quite the healthy dose of self survival. Eudora had been inordinately fond of her.”

The wolf in Klaus's grip faltered in his fight, his face red and eyes bulging. Klaus only squeezed harder.

“Again, your reasons for broaching us are?”

Silas’s eyes darkened. “Again, Where. Is. Caroline?”

A heart stopped beating, its body stilling. Klaus discarded the corpse with a flick of his wrist, landing at Silas's feet.

She wished Enzo was here; he would have liked having the distinct possibility of being able to punch the immortal in the face.

She supposed she'd have to hit harder as a compensation, should she ever have the chance in the future.

Someone dolled out a reply, Kol probably. It all became background noise as she rechecked positions and numbers, noted the vampires on the roof. Her heart held the phantom memory of beating loudly in anticipation and fright.

“Who, Caroline?” At the mention of her name, she re-focused on the conversation.

“She'd not dare run, not when a friend of hers is in the crossfire. She's simply hiding,” Silas’s eyes turned cold and calculating. “Unless she had been abandoned, I suppose. Tell me, Bonnie, how long did it take for anyone to notice she'd gone missing. How long did you mourn her for?”

Bonnie gasped, holding her head in pain. Her eyes watered as her legs seemed to buckle under an invisible weight. Kol immediately hauled her up, fixing Silas with a murderous expression.

She choked on her desire to sink her teeth in Silas’s neck, to make him feel the agony Bonnie was experiencing.

“Stay out of my way or what I did to the world will seem like mercy, vampires,” Silas said. “Find her.”

Like a mirage, he faded out of vision and all that was left were his compelled creatures.

She could work with that.

With great speed, she flashed to the onyx haired witch, snapping her neck with too much ease. A ripple went through the air. Snarls came from all side.

“You found me,” she told them jovially. “Now, the question is who'll be the one to take me?”

She broke through the muscles and skin of one of the vampires who went to grab her, tore out her heart with satisfaction.

“The answer is no one.”

* * *

 

The room was awfully quiet.

Rebekah kept shooting her withering glares every once in a while which she refused to cower under, returning her own cool glances. She was not beholden to any of these people who thought of themselves royalty, did not owe them her loyalty or trust or even to divulge her plans or stories.

And from Elijah’s assessment of her once he'd heard what happened in that backstreet, she knew he was aware of that.

Still, she did not retire to her room until she made sure Bonnie was well and sleeping, had healed after tiring herself today. Her muscles unclenched then, relief heady.

Finding Klaus in her bed, shoes removed and limbs splayed on the cover in a graceful manner made that fly right out the window. The smell of sage that filled the room had her sighing.

Looking at him so made that relief turn into bone deep wariness.

He watched her as she stripped out of her shoes, left them at the foot of the bed and crawled under the duvet. The shower she'd taken had done its job and she was well and cozy beneath her sweater.

There was prominent silence in which she felt she could hear the ants as they dug beneath the earth if she tried hard enough.

“Is there any reason you're here?”

She winced at the question. Sometime, she really despised her no brain-to-mouth filter.

He reached to tug at one of her curls, looping it around his index and rubbing the strands with his thumb.

“Plenty, love.”

Am arch of her eyebrows had his eyes gleaming.

“Perhaps we could start with why you hid yourself away so neatly as soon as Silas became present?”

“Other than the reason that he's the reason behind me getting tortured for a quarter of a century? Maybe it's because he's a mind reading creep and that gives me anxiety.”

He tugged again. “Other than that.”

She felt he was much calmer than she had thought he would be, and she eyed him in trepidation. Then narrowed her lids.

Oh, was this a part of his negotiations? Two could play that game.

She widened her eyes and allowed a touch of breathlessness to enter her voice, batting her lashes for good measure. “I don't like sociopathic murderers.”

The smile he gave made his dimples show and it was incredibly unfair. “Should I feel special you have yet to hide from me?”

Caroline shrugged, “You’re kinda pretty and he not so much, his cheekbones don't really do it for me.”

A rumble vibrated in his chest as he laughed. She watched him as she slid herself better under the cover, the duvet coming up to her torso.

He quieted down, “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me your real reasons.”

She stared at him, didn't blink when he met her eyes. They stayed like that for a few minutes. She was suddenly filled with the wish to be able to read his mind, crack open his skull, find out his intentions.

But she couldn't and so she had to make the choice whether to trust him or not on her own.

“You saw the way Qetsiyah’s tombstone reacted to me. I am an anomaly,” she said at last.

“I was made aware of that,” he said dryly, impatience beginning to colour his tone.

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“You can tell me, love. I'm a hybrid, after all. I know quite a bit about improbable anomalies myself.”

Curiosity shot through her, “What’s a hybrid?”

“Hmm, sometimes I do not acutely remember how young you are.”

She felt offended and it must have showed on her face for his fingers pulled again in a teasing manner.

“A hybrid is a mixture of two different species, retaining abilities unique to both lineages.”

“I got that from the car,” she said, unable to keep the joke in, getting a tiny bit more satisfaction than she should have when his eye twitched. “Alright let me rephrase that, you're a hybrid of what creatures?”

“I’m wolf and vampire.”

She'd known of the animosity between the wolves and the vampires, heard bits and pieces about it in her cell and collected what information she could when she'd hunted for anything that could help her, but it was unclear how this tibid about Klaus related to their conversation, other than solving the puzzle of the strong magic she’d always felt from him.

“Is it nice?” Because she had to ask.

His lips curled in a smirk, “It does have its perks.”

The sentence was so him that a ghost of a smile crossed her face. She swallowed heavily when she remembered why he said that, what led to them to this point.

Throat dry from something other than hunger, something much closer to uncomfortableness had her struggling with words.

“I didn't turn out the way I should have, the way the witches had planned,” she spoke carefully, the words an iron weight on her tongue with the memories they held.

Klaus's reaction was so minuscule that if she hadn't been looking for it, she would have missed it. He froze unexpectedly.

Her breath dragged in her throat, jaws grinding.

“When they took us, they had a very specific purpose for us. We were meant to be Silas's safeguard. His very own private henchmen. But the magic reacted differently, became unique to each one of us, having completely unforeseen results.”

He inclined his head to the side, expression nameless.

“They casted spells that made us impervious to subtle compulsion and magic mind control and somehow I ended up being able to block Silas himself out,” she paused. “The ingredients we're hunting, the tombstone and the moonstone, they're Silas’s failsafe, the witches wanted to link parts of us to it, make the spell stronger, I think? I've never really found out what was the reason but I do know that it mutated to something else.”

“What?” he murmured.

Eyes starting to fill with the need to sleep, she smiled cheekily. “That's enough for today.”

He arched a knowing brow but she wasn't deterred. She'd never ever tell him of how vital she actually was, to tell someone of why Silas hunted her so thoroughly. While his witches were modifying her to his wishes, Qetsiyah had worked her magic from beyond the grave, had insured that Caroline had something within her necessary to complete the destruction of the other side.

It took her years of research and tracking down witches known for their strict policies when dealing with creatures of the night to know all of this. Had dealt with having to work with riddled puzzles and sitting through a seance with Qetsiyah as she, laughing, had told her the truth. She'd murdered and lied and bartered for information, had ended every soul that could speak of any of it.

They were not her proudest moments, but to survive they'd been necessary.

And then there was the possibility that the spell Eudora had used was the same that created the Originals.

If they knew there would be no chance for her to live, they'd grind her marrow and bones and incrinate her from existence.

Old creatures rarely reacted well to being threatened.

“How many of you were there?”

“Twenty.”

A flicker of surprise, “Twenty?”

“Only two survived in the end.”

The accident that'd made for her and Enzo’s escape had been just that — an accident. And it had taken the lives of nearly everyone else, Eudora excluded.

But she'd rectified that soon enough.

A low considering noise at the back of his throat and Klaus continued speaking, “I suppose my witches did not know of your true value when they'd mentioned how imperative you were.”

She yawned, tilting her head back against the pillow, “I reckon between you and Silas, you guys have the ability to build a fabulous witch army and take over the world.” Caroline paused. “Well he already did that so you’ll have to do something else to get an award.”

He chuckled, “I'll keep that in mind.”

Outside a siren blared to life, warning all of danger, the pattern of the beat signalled a vampire spotted on the loose. Her eyes closed shut as she heard the fast patter of feet on concrete. Wondered what nightmare she'd dream.

A hand tangled in her hair, soothing. “Sleep, Caroline.”

She did.

* * *

 

 Getting out of Rome and the mess that suddenly came up had been their highest priority. A group of rogue vampires and a pack of ravenous wolves had infiltrated the city and Rome had apparently gone to _hell_.

The commotion and sudden alertness had left the country on edge, had made it harder for them to move as freely as they would’ve liked. Rebekah had sulked at the missed opportunity to visit her witch, had seethed at a crude remark from Kol and buried a knife in his liver.

It had ruined an antique sofa and Caroline was still pissed about it.

Still, part of her revelled in exiting the city with so much flourish. They'd left it behind them in ruin, fire and blood flooding the streets.

Crossing the borders proved to be challenging with the armed forces walking through routine checks with a fine comb. Yet, Klaus and his siblings had long mastered the art of slipping through obstacles and in the end they managed to cross over to Austria like they wanted.

The country was a bit quieter than the main capitals of Europe, allowed for a reprieve and a good hunt for food that left her monster sated.

Vienna, beautiful and new, left the wanderlust that's always existed in her prickling. The city was pure magic, she could swear, it made her breathless to be surrounded by such loveliness.

Stephansplatz square became pretty much her new favourite place in the continent and she'd already catalogued a few boutiques to visit once everything settled down.

The amused, indulgent smirk Klaus had given her as she bit her lip, planning where to start had filled her with unexpected warmth. She refused to think about it though; it was neither the time nor the place.

And then they got attacked.

_Again._

* * *

 

 The second batch of underlings were loud and annoying and just plain insufferable. A brash vampire got handsy as he attempted to restrain her- which she did not appreciate - and ended up with his spinal cord on the floor.

After that things just escalated. Between her and Klaus they managed to end them rather quickly.

When they'd finished, dead bodies littering every square inch of the place, she turned to face her companion, become shocked stark at what she saw.

It wasn't the gore clinging to his shirt - there was just as much clinging to hers - the blood soaking the fabric and smearing across his skin.

His face though, it was what took her breath away.

Klaus's eyes shone a bright gold-yellow, vampire veins creeping up cheeks and when he should have had a set of fangs, there were two.

He watched her watching him rapturously.

“Can I touch?” It rushed out of her without thought.

The question seemed to both delight and amuse him, his lips slowly curling.

“What an interesting request sweetheart.”

She swallowed heavily at the heat in his eyes. “I thought it would be rude not to ask.”

He made a ‘be my guest’ motion and it was all the invitation she needed.

Hesitant, she walked towards him until she stood in front of Klaus directly. She lifted her hands, a quiver in her step, head spinning at how the moment felt so surreal. With a gentle touch, she traced his veins, fingers skimming under eyelids as she took in the vivid gold.

That gold was safety, danger and addiction all at once.

The double set of fangs were last. She felt them with the tips of her fingers with care, careful not to break skin; to draw blood would be to shatter the last of her control.

Gasping sharply when his hands touched her face, her eyes turned to his. Met a fascinated gaze as Klaus returned the favour.

She had not noticed her fangs coming out and the realization almost made her fall.

The witches had been utterly obsessed with idea of total willpower and control, had trained her so thoroughly that her monster wouldn't unveil itself even when tied up, weak and hungry,  in a room full of dead bodies.

And years later when she'd accepted all her quirks, it took all of her to make her fangs appear. What did it mean that they came so easily to her now?

Caroline almost did not want to know.

* * *

 

“Good old Silas is pretty pissed, I reckon.”

Kol seemed almost jovial with the picture they made as the entered the large ensuite, blood painting several areas of their clothes. She was sure her hair had a good dip itself; one of the werewolves’ heart that she'd ripped had made such a splatter.

Klaus's lips curled a little, “As much as the possibility is entertaining, the underlings he sent us were no more than fodder.”

And a jab at her, clearly, they were far too irritating to be anything else.

“There’s always next time.”

Rebekah’s voice cut through the air. “Not here I believe.”

The statement had her turning to Bonnie, imploring. “Please tell me there's no more travelling.”

She's had _enough_ of treasure hunting to last her several lifetimes.

The grim set of Bonnie’s lips, the cradle of a hand on her shoulder by Enzo as he patted it told her all she needed to know.

“Oh, come on," she said

* * *

 

There was a lull as the train lurched forward to start its journey, then a steady trek. The first class compartment they'd booked was quiet, the whole train too. Aside from a bit of shuffling, the curious set of whispers, most passengers were sleeping.

Bonnie was resting in her seat, and Kol was double checking the grimoires, an unusually serious furrow between his eyebrows as he skimmed through the pages. Out of the four Originals, only three had rode the train from Vienna to Budapest; Elijah had promised to rejoin his siblings in Greece shortly with a quick nod to Klaus, an exchange only translatable to the two brothers.

She wondered if it had something to do with the mother they'd mentioned, but found no hints of it in Klaus's posture, not in Rebekah’s quiet sighs as she browsed her phone.

A burst of speed and she fixed the blanket around her, adjusted her body and bent her leg beneath her hips to fit in better, leaning her head against the set of Enzo’s shoulders.

Eyes fluttering as she closed them, she hoped she wouldn't dream.

* * *

 

She drew a laboured breath in, sweat clamming up her forehead. The floor underneath her was stony and uncomfortable, aggravating the wounds on the back of her thigh everytime she fidgeted.

Head hazy and spinning, it was a struggle to keep herself afloat the abyss that wanted to swallow her whole. It looked scary and never-ending and she didn't know where it would take her, what it'd do to her, so she fought.

Teeth biting down on her lip, she nearly gagged at the taste of metal on her tongue. It was familiar but so, so unwanted.

Something resembling silence made its way around her. She revelled in it, the scarce rest from constant torment.

A racket on the opposite side of the wall had her limply crawling until she put her ear to it.

“Finished your torture session?” she rasped out.

Another scruffle and Enzo’s low voice came through the cracks in the wall. The first time he'd wanted to talk to her it had been a struggle to hear his voice, her human hears picking up the sound with difficulty.

His solution had been to punch the wall with such force, it trembled and then to laugh when their captors - torturers - punished him for being disobedient.

She'd wondered at the efforts he took to speak to her until his red eyes had gleamed as he hungrily eyed her neck.

The toothpick she'd nicked from one of the humans, that she had aimed at Enzo’s cheek, had been a loss to a shabby raw escape plan but worth it.

And now they were friends.

It was certainly not stranger than many other events in her life.

“I think it's your turn tomorrow.”

Eyelids squeezing shut at that, she shuddered. A silent prayer to the heavens for quick mercy was all that she was capable of articulating, a helpless sob trapped in her throat.

“It will be alright, Goldilocks.”

They both knew that was a lie.

Would she die tomorrow, lie as a discarded heap on the floor? Would her body be found in a rotten forgotten place, an unspoken reminder of a world people had no idea existed? Would her friends remember her, years after death had taken her, nostalgic and reminiscing.

Would her mother bury her?

“You never did tell me how old you are,” the murmur is soft and quietly uttered.

Her harsh breath dragged across her throat, “I'm not sure.” Enzo didn't comment at the break in her words, let her gather her thoughts. “Seventeen, I think? I would have been seventeen in a few months.”

Silence, then a sequence of taps against the wall had her smiling; for all his attempts to teach her Morse code they had sadly gone over her head.

“I don't understand,” she said, something resembling a laugh floating at the edge of her subconscious.

He breathed a long suffering sigh, “You’re the worst.”

The laugh seemed a little closer. “Hmm, also gonna be shish-kabobed soon.”

“Caroline.”

“I don't know how much longer I can last,” she confessed, suddenly tired. She crawled away, not wanting to hear any remarks, any reprimands.

* * *

 

There was no other way to say it, she _despised_ Greece.

The country would have been fun and quirky decades ago, when she'd been human and unmarred by buried scars, but now it made her senses go on overdrive, the ties of the history and magic of the place to her unbearable.

Half-moon cuts formed in her palm where her nails dug in her skin, and fangs bit in the inside flesh of her mouth so hard she tasted blood.

Hearing they had to go there had brought to the forefront memories she didn't want brought up. Recently freed, she and Enzo had fled to the place that had birthed Silas, searching for any scrap or hint of stories and legends. She'd been hungry and anxious, had fought between restraining herself in a world where humans had yet to knew of the supernatural and tearing into where she'd wanted the most.

For someone whose thirst had been dangled in front of her, as punishment, as enticement, blood had been a respite.

She'd quickly shed her all-you-can-eat diet, though; rumors of rippers and their bloodlust an even bigger horror than perhaps the nightmare she was living. No one was allowed to strip her of control, mindless violence was not her. She wouldn't give all those who hurt the satisfaction of changing who she was.

Not now, not ever.

It had all started in Greece and the leftover marks showed in the country; where the violent clouds appeared only during noon in the lands of the old world, the entirety of Athens was bathed in darkness, there was a wind that blew in streets and roads, an unusual chill for the climate, and everyone openly wore weapons on their bodies. The weather reports had said the same for all the other Greek cities.

Whose punishment was it to inflict that terror? To rid a world of its sun was something irredeemable.

She sighed, flopping back on the bed. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she’d be able to hear the sounds of the people moving inside the building, the threads of conversation, could sense where sage was being burnt.

The mansion that the Originals had was big and spacey, a combination that would have made her imaginative mind run with decorating ideas if she weren’t so jittery. The furniture inside was absolutely to die for.

Not that she was surprised, they seemed to have no clue what lowkey meant.

She exhaled, her puffs of air pushing against the light strands of hair that fall across her face.

A beat then another and she sat up again, draping the family book Bonnie had given her across her lap. Bonnie had said something about her ancestors keeping track of the original story, no follies or gossip, passing it to generation after generation.

Leary yet curious, she'd taken it, wondering what fact that she didn't about, that she hadn't glimpsed in the magic of the tombstone. But she’d wanted a distraction and the book seemed as good as any.

And it was mercifully in Latin.

The pages provided enough work in translating without making her have a headache, even if there was nothing of value that she discovered so far.

Silas and his quest for immortal love, and the promise he swore to reunite with Amara in death after he'd known of her murder, of plotting _eons_ to thwart his ex-fiancée. He'd carved a place into the world as a mystical god and enticed descendants of Qetsiyah to serve him willing.

Had desired near immortal creatures; strong enough to not be easily squashed, but still able to be destroyed.

She turned the page when she finished, her eyes widening in surprise.

The book detailed a spell Qetsiyah had cast, after finding that he'd made for a second plan to escape the pull of the other side should he fail to destroy it. It prevented Silas from interfering with anyone tracking down the items needed to obliterate him from existence, prevented him from collecting the ingredients himself, that would ensure his spirit's transition to the afterlife instead of the supernatural purgatory should he die a witch.

That's why he'd been sending wolves and vampires after their trail, and not witches like he had the first time he'd cornered them. He was bound to the rules of magic Qetsiyah had made.

He couldn't use witches, only brute force.

She felt her head spin.

Something was missing though; something important.

Information about Amara was little, as if they wanted to grind her memory from history itself.

Not beyond what a need for revenge would cause, but the thought didn't sit well with her.

She rubbed the sides of her head, thinking. Maybe she needed a second opinion.

Navigating her way through the hallways when the mansion was filled with various creatures, all who, in a way or another, were loyal to the Originals, was a chore. She'd spotted Bonnie with a tutelage of witches, some old, some young, as she spoke to them all, her friend completely at ease with commanding so many.

She rolled her eyes at that, recalling with clarity the conversation in freshman year they’d had, she was convinced that Bonnie could nail running for cheer captain if she wished and Bonnie so vehemently insisting she couldn't.

Call her petty, but it felt good to be proven right.

Bonnie looked to her right, sensing eyes on her and smiled. Caroline arched a brow in reply, gesturing to the crowd. Bonnie frowned in confusion for a moment before it dawned on her, the unamused expression she made a thing that could kill before she gave her the finger.

Caroline laughed and sped away.

Much as she'd like to continue to tease, she had someone to find.

* * *

 

Everything was quiet.

The air was strangely still, as if the wind itself deserted its poste, there were no birds, no humans. Even the clouds she hated were dull and lacking.

There was a restlessness that plagued everyone, in the wide court of the Acropolis. A shift in how they stood, moved. There were hoards of witches, vampires and werewolves who came from all over the world, loyal to the Originals, who'd come at their commands.

The battle was growing nearer and nearer.

Inside the Parthenon, laid Amara's body, cooling in the cloth she'd found for her.

Klaus had been open to hearing her suspicions; together with Kol's help they managed to find some answers to the puzzle she was presented. A string here, a missing piece there and they'd connected everything.

Caroline didn't think she'd ever been more horrified in her life.

She thought herself the anchor, how wrong she and Silas were.

Finding Amara, buried beneath the rocks of the temple, a dessicated piece of stone with two vials of the cure was a punch to the gut. An older version of Elena has stared back, eyes alight with madness and despair.

Doppelgänger.

She did appreciate Klaus smoothly covering up for her in the seconds she'd slipped, her fingers lax with shock, even as she felt angry with herself for it. She should have learnt by now that caring about things she couldn't change got her nowhere but it was hard to quell her sorrow.

One mistake and Amara had payed for it twenty five lifetimes over.

At least she was no longer suffering though, her life no longer under the thrall of a hatred that was burning for millennia. Amara had looked like a bird, a beaten abused crushed bird, when she saw them, a bird who was being set free for the first time in far too long as her neck was snapped.

Bonnie walked over to her, climbing the stairs until she reached the step she sat on, a pinch of stress between her brows.

“Having fun being the boss?”

Sighing, Bonnie rested her chin over her palms. “You're never letting me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “Ordering people around is my favourite hobby, I'm happy you're discovering its joy.”

Bonnie snorted. “Okay, _psycho_.” 

Caroline stuck her tongue out as a reply.

* * *

 

 “You’d think for someone who is mighty obsessed with living, Silas would be a bit more concerned about his timely demise.”

She agreed with the sentiment of Kol's words, feeling edgy and restless as the hours dragged on with no sign of the immortal in sight. Her fingers tingled with the memory of gripping Amara's neck.

Caroline was no stranger to death, but she didn't want to think about why this one was any different.

She had to focus.

The hair on the back of her neck rose, and she stood up quickly, spine straightening from the imminent danger. The Originals formed a half circle facing the entrance, the vampires and wolves stretching muscles.

Bonnie had already ordered the witches to their places, the first and strongest line of defence.

Sensing fingers touching at the skin of her hands, she looked at her, felt a glass vial pressed into her pal.

“Ready?” Bonnie asked, brow quirked upwards

She was going to help bring down Silas, she was going to shove that cure down his throat and then she would _kill_ him.

Above, the clouds rumbled.

“As I'll ever be.”

Smiling at her in encouragement, Bonnie descended the steps. Her curls bounced as she moved, electric sparks flashing after each step.

Cure in hand, watching her friend walk so confidently, comfortable in her own skin, Caroline thought of one more secret she'd hidden. 

* * *

 

Her head felt like it would explode. There was a ringing in her ears, a strain in her eye muscle. Her chains had been discarded, Eudora deeming her too weak to even twitch a finger.

Loathe as she were to admit it, the witch was right.

A sob constricted in her throat but she grinded her teeth tightly, curled herself in a ball as if that would force the tears to lay inside.

They'd killed her, injected something in her arm that burned as it moved through her veins. She'd faded in the darkness of death with the chanting of witches in her ears.

Loud footsteps echoed outside, the pattern making that constant ringing somehow more pronounced. The blood she licked from her lips soothed her, but barely.

“So the hybrid have only just begun siring his creatures?” The voice that could only be Eudora spoke.

The person who replied was male, “Yes.”

A frustrated breath. “He’s not on schedule, none of my master’s pawns are.”

“Wouldn’t be better it be that way though? Less chance of someone following our trail.”

There was a started yell and the snap of a bone. “I did not send you to Mystic Falls so you could lecture me on how to fulfil my duty, Shane. And do not forget that every critique you offer is aimed at the vision our lord has created.”

Shane inhaled sharply, “I wouldn't dare.”

“Good.”

“The demon sacrifice will be ready, Eudora, I assure you. Klaus has already started tracking down packs, my informant even suspects he's already completed the transition of one. Then, I will push my mole and everything will be perfect.”

The witch hummed, “And the Bennett girl?”

Bennett? She frowned.

A bucket of ice was poured over her.

 _Bonnie_.

“She's flourishing well; threats to the the doppelgänger has made sure that she keeps trying to hone her skills. The disappearance of that girl you took had done us favours.”

Her, they meant her.

They were using her against Bonnie and no one knew. No one knew.

“I did say taking Caroline was a wise decision. She was the perfect catalyst to speed up the Bennett's magic and if we need it a suitable leverage to utilize should the witch prove to be testy, not to mention she'll make a fine soldier for my master. Two birds with one rock.”

Rock, motionless and without will. She certainly felt like it.

* * *

 

She ran her hands over the backpack she'd just finished packing, some part of her in joyous disbelief. 

It was over, it was truly and finally over.

Maybe the world would never return to how it once were, maybe she’d always have to be on alert from hunters and creatures that would come sniffing after her, seeking her secrets but Silas was dead, spirit cast to the winds and wasn't _that_ something to celebrate.

There would be no more angry clouds.

She braided her hair, thinking of where she could go. She longed to return to Reykjavik and her small apartment -that she'd left for months, unattended, uncleaned and uncared for - wake to the mountains, drink hot chocolate.

Taking one last look at the room she'd been occupying for the last few days, she opened the door. The only things that were slung over her back were hers, all the clothes that Bonnie had insisted they buy were folded neatly in the cupboard.

Her footsteps were the only thing she could hear in this stark silence, and even those the carpets were doing a good job of hiding.

Caroline typed a quick message to Enzo, telling him when she'll leave, uncertain whether or not he'll follow her soon. If not, then she always had plenty of sleep to catch on.

Reaching the stairs, her legs faltered.

Klaus was standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for something. For her?

He looked refreshed and showered, no sign of the fight apparent, his curls damp and the clothes he wore lighter, a Henley and a pair of jeans that did nothing to lessen his appeal.

She took the steps one at a time, unsure of how this will go.

“Leaving so soon, sweetheart?” he asked, possessiveness bleeding into his words.

Muscles tensing, it was a reflex to search for exits, to plot an escape but all that flew out the window when he gently touched her hands, coaxed her to look at him. His eyes weren't soft, but they were not hard either.

She stared at him with a bit of steel. “I have to go back to Iceland.”

He seemed amused. “Apartment troubles?”

“I haven't stepped foot in it in quite some time. It's sure to be a bit… dusty.”

Suspiciously, he smiled.

“I don't think it will be.”

“And how would you know?”

His expression became tinged with mischievousness. “It's hard for it to gather dust when the cleaning team I've hired are to make sure it sits spotless every few days or so.”

He… what?

Caroline blinked once.

“You, hired a cleaning team for my apartment.” She said it again just to be sure she heard correctly.

Klaus's fingers were warm against hers. “A gift.”

She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts. “I'm honestly not sure whether to think of that as cute or creepy.”

“Why the necessity of limitations, think of it what you want.”

She took a deep breath to steal herself. “Okay. Why the gift?”

“For what reason does one usually give a gift, love?”

Caroline huffed, exasperated. “Okay, Sir ‘dark and mysterious’, as much as I'd like to continue this conversation, I've a transport to catch.”

The hand that clasped hers moved to hold her wrist.

“Or you can stay.”

She almost stumbled. “What?”

That smile deepened, his charming dimples she'd peered at through lowered lashes at occasion appearing.

“Stay, Caroline,” he said ever so casually. “I admit that when I first saw you, you did not particularly pique my interest, aside from your use to getting rid of Silas and your abilities but I find your sharp tongue delightful and your lively expressions charming.”

“So what, now you want… a relationship?”

Voice low and at ease, Klaus spoke, “I believe the term best fitting is dating.”

Standing there, with just the two of them in the dim light, she could admit that yes she'd felt intrigued by him, had liked the hidden moments they'd shared.

“I have secrets.”

She thought of what made her who she was, the magic that set her apart from sired vampires. And while she'd never be strong as the Originals, would take more decades to be able to catch up, she had a more even footing with Klaus than if she’d have been just a normal monster, and that only seemed to sweeten his words.

“As do I, Caroline. Creatures like you and I don't survive without accumulating some.”

“If I agree to this, what will we do exactly?”

“You'll let me take you out to a place of my choosing, we'll enjoy the day and end it in a lovely restaurant that offers the best of Greek cuisine.”

“Are you trying to bribe me with food?”

“Is it working?”

Yes, but she was not admitting that to his face. The knowing glimmer of his eyes told her she didn’t need to.

“What if I don't like Greek cuisine?”

He shrugged, “There are a variety that we can sample.” 

Freeing her hands, stepping back for more distance between them and crossing her arms in front of her, she frowned, “You’re being awfully persistent.”

“And you're being awfully evasive.”

Her face must have displayed some of her hesitancy, for he stepped closer again, but not enough to touch.

“Take a chance, Caroline,” he spoke, her name a sweet temptation on his tongue. “I dare you.”

A beat of silence, then:

“Fine, I'll stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> What did you guys think?? Please don't be shy with your opinions, I want to hear what was your impressions about the plot, the character dynamics, KLAROLINE, I admittedly wanted to explore them further but where would I do that, this was already much more huge than I initially planned for it to be. JUST TELL ME EVERYTHING. 
> 
> *Also in case I hadn't made that clear, Succo and Lamia are the rough translations of vampire in Latin, according to Google that is.


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